Give in to Love
by abstract0imposing0pattern
Summary: Mark is wondering if he'll ever find love, because almost evryone else he sees has. Until he meets a girl on the subway, but can he make it work?
1. Chapter 1: What's Your Name?

**A/N**: This is my first fanfic, so please review. I will try my best, but I had to reload this chapter, cuz it didn't come out like I wanted. Sorry! Thank you to those who reviewed the first version of this chapter. I'm sorry.

**Disclaimer: **All I own is subway girl, formerly known as Alia.

* * *

Mark was sitting on a train home when he saw her. It was mid-December and very cold. His fingers felt frozen into their infinite clutch on his camera. He was dejected, as per usual recently. It seemed like everyone had love in their life - everyone but him. Only Collins didn't. But he seemed happy, as though Angel's spirit were still there for him to love. Even people on the street seemed to be in love. Everyone had someone to put their arm around, a hand to hold. Mark couldn't help but capture this on film. But it wasn't like it used to be, his work. His spark, the _joie de vivre_ was gone. He could always put a happy spin on sad things, find the light in the darkness. Now it seemed like it had been turned around for him. All his film was cheerless and cold.

It got boring.

He was consumed by this until the train lurched to a stop. He looked up suddenly, to see if there was anything or anyone to inspire him. He almost laughed at the notion. Until he saw her.

She had slightly longer than shoulder length brown hair streaked naturally with red. It was loose around her shoulders. Her dark, intense eyes were searching for a seat. Her profile was delicate but surprisingly strong. She was wearing only a raggedy brown sweater that fell halfway down her thighs, and knee boots. She had a scarf around her neck that trapped her hair under it. She was beautiful, that was what caught Mark's attention at first, but what kept it was the atmosphere around her. It was powerful, commanding, but not arrogant.

He felt like he just wanted to see her all day, all week, all his life. Just wanted to see her hair falling like that, like a halo, around her head. Just wanted to see that look on her face, one of amused almost frustration.

She was still looking for a seat. She was carrying a black messenger bag and looking slightly tired. Mark looked at the empty seat next to him and hurriedly shifted his own bag to his lap. She noticed the space and looked relieved at the miracle of finding a sitting space on the crowded subway - and with good reason. Standing would be no fun in her four-inch stilettos.

"Is anyone sitting here?" Her voice was fluid and musical with a hint of an accent he couldn't place. But his head didn't seem to be working properly right now anyway.

"Uhh . . . no." He sounded awkward to himself.

But she didn't seem to mind his apparent awkwardness. She took the seat. But somehow she managed to sit at the exact moment the train sprung forward. She toppled over, and right onto Mark's lap. They were both shocked. As the train settled into movement, she put herself back into her own seat, apologizing profusely.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry." She sounded sincere. "I'm such a loser. Only I could be that uncoordinated."

"You and me both." Mark replied, surprising himself. He usually nodded politely at these remarks from strangers.

"Oh, no, you've only seen a small sample of my clumsiness." she said, smiling. "I just broke my boot heel a minute ago and had to go back to my apartment and get new boots."

"Well, I can't say I've ever done that." Mark told her.

"Lucky you. I had a choice of walking with one flat, one three-inch hell, or going bareffot, which was akin to madness in this weather." She was funny.

"So you chose the first option, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah, I wasn't in the mood for frostbite."

They sat in silence, Mark grinning and her having a sort of private smile. Mark wondered what she was thinking about. Was it him? He hoped so. He fidgeted with his camera, trying to keep his hands warm. She noticed the camera.

"Oh, do you make films and stuff?" she asked. Mark's disappointment came flooding back.

"Yeah, I made one. A documentary."

"About . . ."

"The homeless. People with AIDS." The memory of the night he had finished it and had shown it to his friends was suddenly surprisingly strong in his mind. That night had been so full of emotions.

"Wow. Powerful stuff. What did you call it?"

"Today 4 U. It was the only decent film I ever made." Truth.

The train lurched to a stop again. The girl stood up.

"Oh, this is my stop. Are you staying on?"she asked. Yes. But for a moment he wished he could just get off, keep talking to her for another couple of minutes. But he couldn't. He nodded.

"Oh." she said. Was that disappointment? "Oh, well. Bye." She waved as she walked away. Then to his surprise, Mark found himself standing up, yelling out.

"Hey!" The girl turned, looked back at him.

"Yeah?" Mark hesitated.

"What's your name?" he asked. Oh god, that's not too stalkerish. But she just smiled, not noticing.

"I work at the Life Café. I just got a job there." she told him. "Ask for Norah."And with that she stepped off the train, leaving Mark alone again with his thoughts. He sat staring for a moment, then leaned back and smiled as the train set off.

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**A/N**: How was that? Please review. You know you want to . . . 


	2. Chapter 2: It's Just a Cafe

**A/N:** Sorry about the update delay, and the replacing. Fanfic being stupid. Grr. Thank you for reviews.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned RENT, omg I would be so rich and NOT writing fanfic

* * *

Mark stumbled in the door fifteen minutes later, looking vaguely happy. He stood quietly inside the door. Roger was already there, working on a new song on his guitar. He was playing a few chords and pausing occasionally to write in a notebook or scribble something out. He was frowning but not unhappily. Just because he was concentrating. Mark turned on his camera and zoomed in on him. Roger was so focused he didn't even notice. Mark smiled to himself. All of a sudden, Roger's face exploded into a grin. Mark knew he had got something he liked down. It might not even be a whole song, but if Roger liked it that much, it was damn good. Roger turned around and saw Mark, who flipped off the camera.

"Oh, my god. The mighty have fallen. Happy footage? From you? I thought after the first documentary, you were ruined."

"I know, great, huh?"

Roger shook his head. "Great? It's a miracle. Wow. So, when did this happen? No, why did this happen?"

At this point, the apartment door opened to reveal Mimi. She walked over to the couch and flopped down.

"Hey. What do you mean, Why did what happen?"

Roger sat down next to her and put his arm around her. And announced "Mark is possibly the victim of an out of control camera." Mimi looked confused. Roger elaborated. "Footage. Good stuff, too. Happy stuff."

Mimi shrieked. "Oh my god, Mark, that's great. Why?"

Mark blushed furiously. "No reason. Really"

Mimi laughed. "Yeah right. What's her name?"

Mark's jaw dropped. He was completely shocked. How did she know?

"There's no girl. I'm serious."

"Please, Mark, this is how you used to be when you talked about Maureen. Hey, is it Maureen? Did you finally get the hell over her?" Roger inquired.

"No, it's not Maureen, but I think he's definitely over her. It's different than when he talked about her. Hmm." Mimi looked intensely at Mark, who got up and stepped away from the couch, as if to distance himself from the subject from the subject. (Impromptu A/N: There should be a ton of music in here, but my songwriting skills are like oh my god, wow, that's a song? No. So, it's just a story, not a musical.)

"Guys, it's not Maureen. I promise you."

"But it is a girl." Mimi said. She looked at Roger. "Where did he go?"

Roger thought for a minute. "Uhhh, he was on the streets for about an hour with thecamera, plus probably the subway both ways."

Now it was Mimi's turn to think. "Hmm. Not a lot to go on. The streets? Which ones?"

"I wasn't on the streets, I just rode the subway for half an hour, then got another one back to the apartment. And maybe I just had . . . an . . . epiphany." Mark interjected angrily. An epiphany? Mimi at least would see through that one.

And she did. "An epiphany? Yeah right."

"Just tell us. It'll be easier for everyone." Roger added, sounding bored.

Mark sighed and fell into an armchair with a groan. "Fine." he said. "Fine. I'll tell you. But it'll only take half a minute. It's not like I fell into a romance novel or anything." He took a deep breath. "Okay, so I was on the subway home, and this girl got on. And she-"

"Wait." Mimi said. "What was she wearing?" Roger gave her an exasperated look. "I'm kidding." she assured him. "Keep going."

"So, she sat down next to me. And we started talking. And then she got off."

Mimi thought. "Do you know her name?"

Mark sighed. "Norah."

"That's it?" Roger asked. "Did she just come up and say 'Hi, I'm Norah' and walk way? Cuz, that's not talking."

"No we were talking about being clumsy cuz she fell onto my lap, then about my camera and my film, then she got up to leave and I kinda asked her what was her name and she said Norah, and she worked at the Life Café, and than she left. The end." Mark said all this in a rush.

"Okay, stalker." Roger said. "I'm surprised she'd tell you after you just asked out of the blue."

"No, no," Mimi said. "She'd probably like that. Girls like it when guys say something that shows they're interested in them right out of the blue, it's cute."

Mark pondered this. "Okay. So now what?"

"You go to the Life Café." Mimi told him. "But not today. Probably not tomorrow either. Maybe the day after that. Yeah, go then, Friday. (Another A/N: It's Wednesday)

"I can't." Mark said.

Mimi and Roger looked at him. "Huh?" they asked.

"I can't." he said. "I can't go in."

Mimi sighed. "Mark, it's just a café. You can go in whenever you want. We do eat there a lot. In fact, I wonder why we haven't seen her there."

"Maybe she just got the job." Roger pointed out.

"Eve if she's worked there all her life, I _can't go in_."

"Why the hell not?" Roger asked.

Mark hesitated, and sank into his armchair. "Cuz she'll be there."

"Um, kind of the point." Mimi told him.

"I know, but it'll feel weird." Mark said.

"Oh, god, just do it. Friday. Go to the café and talk to her. And I'll lend you some cash so you can actually order something this time." Mimi told him. "After all, it's just a café. It's just getting dinner. She might not even be there."

Mark nodded, feeling sick. But he told himself, I can do this. It's just a café, after all.


	3. Chapter 3: Subway Guy?

**A/N:** Thank you reviewers! You are my heroes. I'm, again, sorry for changing stuff, but fanfic was being stupid to me. And that makes me sad. I'm also sorry for slow updates. But I prefer to write without the watchful eye of others on me. I feel less pressured that way.

**Disclaimer:** Norah is the only thing I own in here. Sadly, but I like Norah, so that's ok.

* * *

Mark walked down the street. He pulled his coat tighter. It was Friday. He was headed towards the Life Café. It was snowing slightly. A dusting of powder rested on his shoulders and hair. He was nervous. So nervous. He felt like he had a swarm of mutant butterflies attacking his stomach lining. But, he tried to tell himself, it was a good nervous. Like good stress. It motivates you. Eustress. Yes, this was eustress. The kind that made you make the deadline, take the test, just go into the café. Mimi's word's came back to him, '_She might not even be there'_. He reminded himself of that again, as he had on the whole way down from the apartment. It was being worn through, though.

Mark stopped in front of the café. He could just go home now. He could tell Roger and Mimi that Norah hadn't been there. Use Mimi's twenty bucks to buy them all food for the night. That would work. But then he wouldn't know. And Mimi would insist he come back. She was like that. When it came to a chance of love, she was insistent.

Mark touched the twenty in his pocket and entered the café.

* * *

The air inside the café was warm, much more so than the air outside. That relaxed him, but not by much. The manager glared at him. Mark and his friends were notorious at this place for sitting down and never ordering or paying, just there because the restaurant had heat. Mark had to choke back his laughter. He flashed his twenty and found himself a seat. He sat for about ten minutes, reading the menu. He wondered what to get. Did people judge you by the food you ate? He decided a burger was good. Or what else? The Life Café was limited in the menu department. He bit his bottom lip. A burger. That sounded good. No utensils. No pressure. Just easy. Good.

Was she here? Mark looked around the crowded café. He didn't see her. _I hope she's not here_, he thought, at the same time as _I hope she's here_. He felt filled up with emotion, like he had so much energy that he had been forced to hold in, and now he didn't know what to do with it. It was almost painful. He felt scared. Then he saw something that made the bottom drop out of his stomach.

It was her. She was wearing slightly ripped jeans, a black blazer, and a t-shirt with a lopsided, simple little robot on it. Her hair was up in a sleek, straight ponytail, and a navy blue scarf replaced yesterday's. She had big hoop earrings and was, of course, wearing a black waitress's apron. She was taking an order from a blond girl a few tables away. They were talking. Mark assumed the blondie was either her friend or a regular. She walked away from the table, having finished taking down the order. She went through a door marked kitchen and disappeared. The last thing he saw of her was the stiletto heel of her black suede shoe. Mark focused on his menu. He had to order something. Soon. Coffee and a burger. But what did he want on his burger. He was starving. Everything. Except onions. Mark hated onions on his food. If he didn't know they were there, if they were used as seasoning, he was fine. But on his burger or his steak, that he could not handle.

Norah emerged from the kitchen again, empty handed. She glanced around the room, looking for a new customer to take the order of. She cast her eyes around and they landed on . . .

. . . The guy next to him. She walked over to that table, smiling and asking him what he was going to have, but not in an overly friendly way. Mark smiled. She actually sounded slightly frustrated and annoyed at having to introduce herself continually to people when a) she had a nametag, and b) these people were gonna forget in maybe five minutes, if not sooner. The cheery introductions now sounded a little ironic to him. But in a funny, haha way, not in an oh the irony, sigh way. Mark had to bite back a laugh. He was getting a little hungry, and he was starting to relax. Norah walked away again, back to the door marked kitchen, presumably the kitchen (here, Mark had to smile at his own wit).

Then she exited with a bang, expelled by a fat chef. He looked not angry but exasperated.

"I'm sorry!" she wailed. "I just wasn't looking Julius-"

"You never are." he replied "Norah. God. That'll come out with dish detergent. Now go!" He pointed to the dining area.

Norah looked at him sheepishly. "Go!" he yelled again.

Norah watched him retreat into his kitchen, then took a plate of food from the man next to her, probably a kitchen assistant, who was covered in tomato sauce. Norah had a large spot on her robot's head. It looked like it was hemorrhaging. She tried to scrape some of it off as she put the plate of fried chicken down in front of a befuddled man, who nevertheless dug in immediately. Still trying to wipe away the sauce, she headed over towards Mark's table. Mark froze. She hadn't seen him yet. What if she didn't recognize him? Then, he thought, he could just order, and it would just be like a regular night.

She was still working at the sauce when she reached his table and began her spiel.

"Hi-I'm-Norah-and I'll-be-your-server-today-are-you ready-to-order-yet-or-do-you-need-a-minute." she spewed off at top speed, not even looking at him. She knew it by heart. He again had to bite back a laugh. "Blah, blah, blah . . . my shift's over in five, so order now or your getting a new waitress. Probably. Depending on how long you take to decide." She was pretty funny. And then she looked up.

"Subway guy?" she asked. Like she was saying the name of one of her friends. Like Reggie, or Anna, or Chris. Reggie? Okay that was a little out there. But still.

"Um yeah. Norah?"

"Yeah. Haha, Julius loses. He said you wouldn't come. He said I would never get to find out your name." she paused. "Well, there's still a chance I might not find out your name. Seeing as I'm probably scaring you with the magnitude of words leaving my mouth." And the speed of them. She talked faster than anyone Mark had ever heard.

"Um, wow. You talk a lot, I guess. But you talk so fast it hardly takes any time at all. Um, you win. I'm Mark."

She blushed. "Um, yeah, I talk a lot when I'm nervous. _Especially_ when I'm nervous would be better, I guess. Julius says I talk a lot to hide my nervousness. But I talk a lot normally, too. Just not _this_ much."

"Julius? The cook who . . ."

"Threw me out? Yes. But he knows he loves me. Right Julius?" she bellowed the last two words at the kitchen door.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." he yelled back.

Mark gulped. "So you two are . . ."

"Us? Oh, god no. He's my psychiatrist. Plus, Julius is gay."

"Oh. I just thought -" Mark stopped, sensing this could become awkward.

Apparently Norah hadn't felt the same. "It's good you think." she replied. "I rarely do. This causes a lot of trouble for me. As it did two minutes ago." she gestured to the sauce on her shirt. "But thinking can sometimes be painful, and really, my brain is just not up to it, oftentimes."

Mark laughed. She looked pleased.

"I might have said this before, but my shift's over in five minutes. Then I've got a free hour, then it's back to work."

"Here?"

"No, the Catscratch Club." Seeing his expression, she noted, "I don't dance, I bartend. It's kinda a sleazy line of work, but it pays the bills." She shrugged. "I do need to pay the rent."

"Mark smiled. "I know the feeling. I once totally sold out to pay _my_ rent. Sucks, huh?"

"Totally." she grinned. "I now only have two and a half minutes of work left. You wanna order? If it's quick, I can even bring it to you."

Mark grinned. "Yeah, sure. Burger, everything except onions, and coffee. Black. Please."

"Wow, that's _really_ quick. You got it. Be right back." she walked away. Mark had to smile, he really did.

She was back almost instantaneously, not even leaving Mark enough time to collect his thoughts. He felt a little hazy. But in a good way. She set the plates down. She had a burger for herself, too, but not on a plate, and a coffee to go. He tried to say something, but she held up a finger looking at the clock.

"Yes. Now," she exclaimed, "I am done. My shift is over, Meg is here to take over. I can leave, enjoy your burger and coffee -"

"Hey." Mark interrupted. "D'you wanna sit down?"

She looked at him as if he'd asked her to do an Irish step dance, not sit down. "Um, sure, yeah. Okay." She sat down, looking not repulsed or resigned, but surprised. Mark bit into his burger encouragingly. She instead, opened hers up. It contained lettuce and tomatoes, along with the burger, cheese, and bacon.

"Oh, Julius, are you trying to make me hate you?" she sighed. She peeled them off, setting them in her napkin.

"What?" Mark asked.

"Julius has this idea that I should eat healthier. He's probably right, but I'll never tell _him_ that. I don't eat veggies, so he tries to sneak them into my food. But I avoid alcohol, caffeine, refined carbs, and sugar." Mark looked at her. "Okay, so that's a lie. But still, I hate vegetables. And coffee. So I could never eat your meal."

"You have coffee in your hand." Mark pointed out.

"Oh, no. This is hot chocolate. Julius makes the best. But there's nothing else to put it in."

"Oh. I see." They finished their burgers in silence, but not uncomfortable silence.

"So, Mark said, drinking the last of his coffee, "You have about . . ." he checked his watch "Fifty minutes left of your hour."

"So I do." she replied. "You wanna do something during it?"

Mark grinned. "I don't see why not."

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**A/N: **okay. Chappie 4: the fifty minutes. & pleeeeeeeeeease reveiw. I'll love you forever. 


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